


Understanding Through Immolation

by enigmaticblue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Science Bros, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In order to understand, I destroyed myself.” ~Fernando Pessoa</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding Through Immolation

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Iron Man 3. Written for the hc_bingo prompt, "explosion"

The thing is, Tony misses his suits.

 

Oh, he didn’t miss them right at first; he’d been too busy curing Pepper, and getting the shrapnel removed, and then getting his sternum reconstructed, and the long recovery afterward.

 

Just like having the arc reactor removed, Tony had blown up the suits to make a statement, and to prove a point.

 

He didn’t need the arc reactor, or the suits, or superpowers like those Extremis proposed to grant. All Tony really needs is himself—just him, just his brain, that’s enough. What he’d said a few years ago had been entirely true: he _is_ Iron Man.

 

In that moment of immolation, watching each of them explode, he’d felt that truth down to his bones, and he’d been fiercely glad.

 

But he misses them now, and he’s been bouncing around his workshop in New York for the last couple of days, playing around with plans for the arc reactor, and a few other projects, but unable to settle on anything.

 

Just for the nostalgia, Tony finally pulls up the engineering designs on the Mark 1, poking at holographic elements, removing them, and then putting them back again.

 

“I thought you were done with the suits.”

 

Tony doesn’t turn to look at Bruce. “And I thought you didn’t care.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bruce replies, sounding almost fond, coming up next to Tony and leaning on the work table, holding two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. “Here.”

 

Tony doesn’t like being handed things, but he generally makes an exception for Bruce these days. Plus, coffee.

 

“Pepper said you hadn’t been sleeping much again,” Bruce says quietly.

 

Tony shrugs off his concern. “It’ll pass.”

 

“Why the trip down memory lane?”

 

“Just felt like it,” Tony replies, and sends the holographic helmet flying with the flick of a finger.

 

Bruce hums quietly. “You know, when you regaled me with the tale of your exploits, I hadn’t slept in 24 hours.”

 

Tony glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “And now?”

 

“Now I’m all caught up, and Pepper’s worried about you because you aren’t sleeping again,” Bruce replies. “And now _I’m_ worried because Pepper’s worried, and because you’re not a sentimental man.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’m not,” he agrees. “I just—I wish you could have seen them.”

 

“Seen what?”

 

“The suits,” Tony replies, turning to face Bruce, who does look better rested now, clean-shaven and bright eyed, wearing a threadbare button down that has seen better days and faded khakis. “I modeled one of them after you.”

 

Bruce’s eyes crinkle around the corners. “Me?”

 

“The Other Guy,” Tony corrects himself, leaning a hip against the table. “I called it Igor.”

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

 

Tony winces, knowing that it’s not terribly complimentary, even though he hadn’t meant it as an insult. He’d just named it, like he’d named all of them. “That suit was for the heavy lifting,” he offers as an apology.

 

“You miss them,” Bruce says softly.

 

Tony doesn’t respond, because Bruce is right, and because he knows it’s stupid.

 

It’s just that each of them had a name and a purpose, and now he’s not sure where to start with the next suit, what to include, what to discard.

 

“I had a dog when I was in Brazil,” Bruce says quietly. “He was just a mongrel, really, but he was a good dog. Someone to talk to, you know?”

 

Tony inches a little closer to Bruce, close enough to feel his body heat. “What happened?”

 

“Ross caught up with me, and I had to run,” Bruce says simply. “I didn’t like leaving him behind. Some things you just miss because they were a part of you for a while, and then they’re not.”

 

Tony has no idea what to say to that, so he stays quiet, although he presses his shoulder into Bruce’s slightly. They sip their coffee in companionable silence for a little while, and Tony feels himself relaxing.

 

“Why did you do it?” Bruce asks eventually, when he’s drained his cup.

 

Tony smiles. “Because I had to know I could.”

 

Bruce nods slowly, and Tony can see the shadows in his eyes. He wonders what Bruce is thinking of—if he’s thinking about the accident that had turned him into the Hulk, or something else altogether.

 

Finally, Bruce chuckles. “Go big or go home, right?”

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, that’s me.”

 

“Do you still have the plans for um, for Igor?” Bruce asks, stumbling over the name slightly.

 

“Sure,” Tony replies, and pulls them up, waiting to see if Bruce truly understands that Tony had modeled a suit on the Hulk out of admiration, whatever he’d named it.

 

“You never fail to amaze,” Bruce murmurs when he sees it, and there’s something like delight in his eyes when he claps Tony on the back.

 

And Tony’s suddenly certain that he’s going to build something even _better_ —or maybe they’ll build it together.


End file.
